


Deep In The Gathering Gloom

by Mychelle_Wilmot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Train Conversations, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, minor description of violent actions, this is a good tag for this pairing mind you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mychelle_Wilmot/pseuds/Mychelle_Wilmot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lazy pacing of the train bothered Will, making him feel slightly anxious; it seemed odd to be running away from the FBI in such a slow transportation. He and Hannibal didn't have much time to plan an escape once they were discovered, but it wasn't ideal. It was unwise and sloppy, especially because it was the third time they were spotted in less than six months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep In The Gathering Gloom

**Author's Note:**

> The obligatory post-3x13 fic, just a few months later. It's set more or less a year after The Wrath of the Lamb.
> 
> Just something that popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so here it is. Unbeta’d.

***

Staring at the train tracks slowly moving in front of him, Will Graham shivered against the railing of the train, trying to let the nocturnal winds free his mind of all the events that happened that day, and the memories of the last time he was on a train like this one.

The weather was very similar to the one from when he was travelling with Chiyoh in what seemed so long ago, where days were chilly at best and freezing at worst, and the nights were always icy. However, Will would bet that, even if it was summer, nights spent against the railing of a train would always be cold.

Will pulled his coat tighter against himself - despite his discomfort with the occasional cold breeze, he was feeling well for the first time in that entire day. Their cabin was warm and comfortable, but he was feeling claustrophobic among the thin walls, Hannibal’s arms seeming more like a cage than the safety that it often represented, and he needed to just have some time alone to think – and alone time was something that he didn’t had the luxury of having for a while.

Will took a deep breath, observing the scenery around him as the train moved. It was mostly infinite grass with a few houses along the way, and he could actually observe the details in the houses as they passed by, due to the slowness of the train’s pace.

The lazy pacing of the train bothered Will, making him feel slightly anxious; it seemed odd to be running away from the FBI in such a slow transportation. He and Hannibal didn't have much time to plan an escape once they were discovered, but it wasn't ideal. It was unwise and sloppy, especially because it was the third time they were spotted in less than six months.

Sighing, Will rubbed his hands to warm them, since he forgot his gloves in the cabin and wasn't willing to come back to retrieve it. The past months weren't easy on them and he was so, so tired.

Their deadly battle with Francis Dolarhyde happened a little more than a year ago and, as ironic as it was to think it, the simplicity of the first months right after the fall were the easiest time that he and Hannibal had so far.

Chiyoh had rescued them with a boat, and then she had took them to another one of Hannibal’s safe houses, one that was much more discreet and much less posh. They spent three months in that house, and Will spent the first three weeks more unconscious than awake in his wounded, sore state, and Hannibal wasn’t much better, slowed down by his bullet wound.

When he started to recover consciousness of what had happened to him and what he had done, Will wasn’t disappointed with their survival. When they were in the cliff, falling had seem like the only choice that Will could have taken; there was no other way in his mind then, and he needed to do a last effort for the man he used to be. He needed to try to free the world of Hannibal, of himself, of what they were together.

Will didn’t regret his actions in the slightest, but their survival didn’t bother him. He expected to be angrier at Hannibal, used as he was in trying to deny Hannibal as long as he could, but Will was just tired. He spent the last five years trying to solely hate Hannibal, trying to kill him, trying to forget him and his influence, trying to kill the affection he still felt for him despite of every horrid thing that Hannibal did to him and the ones he loved, and he was never completely successful. The fruitless effort was exhausting, and Will wasn’t going to do that anymore. It never did him any good; it never did any good for the people who passed for his life.

Will thought that Hannibal would be wary or angry at him, but he really wasn't. Hannibal’s acceptance and understanding of the situation unsettled Will at first, but he was glad that they could have a fresh start - or as much of a fresh start that people who shared so much pain and history coated in blood like them could have.

They weren't bothered by anyone during these months of recovery, which was extremely lucky of them and and a blessing - their battered bodies really needed the rest. Even Hannibal wasn't up for his usual mind games, and Will was grateful for the opportunity to recover in peace, without the need of running for his life while he could barely physically walk.

After three months of recuperation, they were strong enough to attempt an escape, which was fortunate since it was becoming more and more dangerous to remain in United States territory - while there wasn't enough evidence for the police to affirm that they survived the fall, they were being very thorough in their search for the bodies, and their faces were still too much fresh in the public’s memory, impeding them from roam freely.

With the help of Chiyoh’s associates, they fled away from the United States and landed in South America. They both had agreed that it wouldn't be safe to be anywhere near Europe now, considering Hannibal’s past actions in Florence.

These months were peaceful, yet strange. Maybe for the first time during their long acquaintance, Will wasn't sure where he stood with Hannibal or what he could expect from him. He accepted all his complex, paradoxical feelings for Hannibal when he stepped into his arms on top of the cliff, but months later he wasn't sure how to regain the boldness of that moment.

Their dynamic was changed, as it was bound to happen with them spending so much time together after being completely apart for three years. They entered in an almost comfortable domestic routine, where casual touches became routine for them, and they even slept together at night - at first for practicality, and later for comfort. But that was as far as they had progressed, because while it was clear what he wanted, for once in his life Hannibal didn't seem willing to push or manipulate Will into a situation where he would benefit, seeming instead to wait patiently for Will to make the first move.

Will was both resentful and grateful for this change of attitude - he resented the responsibility, but he was grateful for the opportunity to progress at his own pace. He made his peace with the fact that he, as Bedelia once said, ached for Hannibal, but he wasn't sure in what to do once he acted in these feelings; he never had any romantic or sexual feelings for men, much less a man like Hannibal, a person whom Will had a bad past in sharing emotional vulnerabilities.

It was in this comfortable but frail mood that they made their way around South America. They spent a few months travelling - they stayed for a while in Argentina, and a few months on Brazil, never staying too long in a place, until they resolved to visit Chile.

That was when everything went to hell for the first time.

For almost two months, he and Hannibal toured along the country, spending a great amount of time in Puerto Varas acting as obnoxious tourists, and no one looked at them twice during all that time, until they tried to leave the country.

It wasn’t even in the frontier that they were recognized, but in a gas station; they were going to travel by car, and they stopped to fill the tank into the middle of the night. It was a very deserted place, and they could see only one attendant, looking bored and sleepy. They never expected to be spotted into such a small place, but the recognition in the poor attendant's eyes was unmistakable. Even if it wasn’t, it became evident when he shouted and tried to run away.

He never managed to run more than a few meters, of course; in a true frightening speed, Hannibal opened the door and caught up with the man, breaking his neck with a loud snap while Will watched everything wide eyed.

They haven’t killed anyone since the Dragon, together or apart. They haven’t even discussed the subject; much like their stagnated relationship status, it was another elephant in the room that Hannibal seemed to expect Will to bring it up first. Will was satisfied enough with that arrangement, so it was more than a little shocking to see Hannibal so freely in action, as if he never had stopped killing at all.

Will didn't complain, didn't even thought in doing so - he was taken aback by the action, but he knew that Hannibal did the necessary to guarantee their freedom. He was immensely relieved when there was no cashier - the man seemed to be truly alone, and knowing they wouldn’t have to shed any more innocent blood that night made him feel better.

But his relief quickly turned into panic when they realized that they wouldn't have time to clean the evidence of their crime; if they didn't run away immediately, they were most certainly going to be caught. With so much evidence of their presence, in a few hours the entire world would know that they were alive after all, and on the run.

Hannibal managed to arrange a private flight thanks to an associate that Will didn't even know existed, and just a few hours later they were flying to Europe; since they were going to be exposed in South America, they might just as well exchange continents to confuse the authorities.

When they landed on Portugal, their faces were everywhere; they had to immediately hide, and all things considered, the fact that they managed to stay three weeks without being spotted was a miracle. But they were spotted, thanks to the security footage of a convenience store of all things, and they barely managed to get away using a stolen car, without even having time to get the few things they carried with them, back in the hotel they were staying.

They arrived in Spain with the intention of laying low and with the intention of not raising suspicion; after such a close call, Will was starting to get really worried about their chances of being arrested. Hannibal was being his calm self, almost cheerful in his lack of concern, and it annoyed Will to no end. More often than not he wondered how no one discovered Hannibal before, with his lack of subtlety; he was sure that they would be discovered because of Hannibal’s incautious attitude.

But as it turned out, it wasn't Hannibal’s fault when they were discovered in Spain; they were recognized by a cop during a beat in an isolated highway, in the middle of an afternoon. It was probably a routine job because he was alone, and even if he was armed, a lone police officer wasn't enough to stop both of them.

Hannibal took advantage of his incredible speed to surprise and disarm the man when he opened the door, and Will helped him this time, restraining the officer while Hannibal snapped his neck, killing him in an instant.

Just like it happened in Chile, there wasn't enough time to cover their tracks; Hannibal managed to put the body inside the police car, but they couldn't delay much longer than that. At least this time they had their few belongings with them in the car, so they drove to the next train station and hopped in a train whose destination was Zürich.

That was only a few hours ago, and in the solitude of the dawn, watching the landscape as train moved, Will tried to make sense of what his life had become.

Will did not regret his decision of coming with Hannibal, and he didn't regret that he had stopped denying to himself his feelings for Hannibal and his desire to be with him. Even if he did, Will knew that he had burned down to ashes his chance of returning to his old life when he participated in the murder of Francis Dolarhyde - he could no longer hide even if he wanted to, and he couldn't face this possibility. Molly deserved better than half a man as a husband, Walter deserved better than him. He didn't have a life to return anymore.

Knowing that this was the life that he chose didn't make it any easier to live with the consequences. Will was still adjusting in living with Hannibal, not sure of what their boundaries were or if they existed at all. Limits were hard to determinate with Hannibal, and the last few hours reminded Will of one harsh truth; while he and Hannibal could understand each other with a clarity and intimacy that Will never experienced with another person, they weren't the same kind of predators when murder was the subject.

Will loved the way he felt when he killed wicked people; he loved how powerful he felt when he killed the Dragon alongside Hannibal, and when he murdered Randall Tier and Garret Jacob Hobbs He didn't feel guilty for not feeling guilty anymore, and this freedom of thought was refreshing and addictive - he _liked_ how he felt now.

But that didn't mean that he would be willing to kill any person at any circumstance, something that he knew that Hannibal never had any trouble with. And now all he could think was the way that he held the terrified police officer against him while waiting for Hannibal to kill him, instinctive as an animal, the way that he didn’t even considered stopping Hannibal from killing the attendant, and how cheap and meaningless both of their deaths was.

Will did not like the feeling of killing someone that he wasn't sure that was a bad person. Their deaths were necessary to assure their freedom, but there was no beauty in taking their lives, no pleasure. He didn't like it.

Part of him wanted to wonder if they left a family behind, if they left friends, if they had a pet or even if they were genuinely good people who were unlucky enough to stay in their way.

Will sighed at this thought, lowering his head. That was why he tried to never empathize with the victims when he was working with the FBI. It was disturbing and depressing enough to slip into the killer’s mind - he didn't need to absorb the victim’s suffering too.

He was lucky that the policeman and the attendant died before he could empathize with any of them and he was grateful for that; it would be too tempting to take a look in their emotions in their terrified last seconds. Will was already having enough trouble dealing with his own emotions and trying to predict Hannibal’s without complicating his already overwhelmed feelings.

“Are you playing games with yourself in the dark of the night?”

Will startled for a moment, almost jumped until he recognized the voice.

“I think I’m too tired to be playing any games right now,” Will said, annoyed; he hated when Hannibal sneaked up on him like that.

When he had gotten out of the bed, Will half expected that Hannibal would be undisturbed and would remain sleeping. In retrospect, he thought that he really should have known better.

Will turned himself to look at Hannibal, leaning against the now closed doors; he was being illuminated by the weak light coming from the corridor and the moon’s brightness. He was wearing his new, heavy coat, and he was wearing a sweater that Will hadn't seen before. It looked soft, inviting, and Will wondered for a few seconds how it would feel against his cheek if he buried his face in the fabric.

“And yet your weariness wasn't enough to keep you in the bed in such a cold night,” observed Hannibal and Will did not have any answer for that, so he remained silent.

Before the silence could stretch into awkwardness, Hannibal spoke again.

“Did you start having nightmares again?”

Will shook his head; he had a few bad, terrible dreams when they were still recovering, but his subconscious had spared him of this particular torment in the past few months.

“Are your consciousness responsible for your agitated state? Is it keeping you awake with anxiety, or dare I say, guilt?”

Will sighed; he knew that he would spill everything anyway, independently of his unwillingness to share his thoughts. Hannibal was never one to be defeated by Will’s lack of cooperativeness.

Will knows that he could stand his ground and Hannibal would most likely respect his silence or at least tolerate his stubbornness, but he didn't see a point in doing so. It wasn't like Hannibal didn't know him enough to deduce the truth, Will saying it aloud or not.

“I’m not in an agitated state. Considering what we did in the last hours and what are we running from, I’m behaving more than well.”

Hannibal smiled, just a little, just enough for Will to see it under the poor light.

“You are agitated, even if you became remarkably good in hiding it.”

Will rolled his eyes, refusing to answer to that.

“I’m just curious. What exactly troubled you enough to make you get up in the middle of the night to seek comfort under the stars of a moving train?”

Will looked at Hannibal once again; he was just a few steps away, with his hands buried in his coat pockets. His posture was relaxed and he was patiently waiting for Will to take his time, not unlike how he once patiently waited for Will to confess his troubles during their therapy sessions.

“It’s not guilt. I’m not regretting my choices, if that’s what is worrying you.”

“I think that you are very aware that this is not what is worrying me, Will.”

Will shivered a little when he felt a particularly icy breeze he crossed his arms, trying to feel a little warmer.

“I didn't like killing them,” He admitted “It didn't feel anything like before. They didn't do anything; their only mistake was crossing our way and recognizing us. It was cheap. Unfair, somehow.”

“As far as we know, they were innocent men who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, which is not enough to warrant a death penalty for you.”

Will nodded, looking down just for a moment.

“You have your own code of conduct when murder is concerned, Will; you are quite righteous. I imagined that their deaths would not sit well with you.”

“It really didn't,” Will agreed “Killing like we killed them… it’s not what I want to do. Not like this. It’s not my _design_ ,” He said, his tone mockingly in the last word “But I can see it as unavoidable. We were protecting ourselves.”

“We were protecting our freedom,” Hannibal corrected him.

“Isn’t it the same?"

Hannibal smiled at him then, one of his fond smiles that always made Will feel a little unnerved.

“I didn't like doing it, but I’m not overly troubled about it. I made my choices, and they were unfortunate consequences. What is troubling me is the reason of why they needed to die.”

Hannibal didn't say a word, just stood there, waiting for Will to finish.

“This is the third time in less than six months, Hannibal, so forgive me if I’m worried about us getting caught soon.”

Will looked at Hannibal in a defiant way after saying these words, as if daring him to say that his concern was unnecessary.

However, Hannibal didn't; he only walked a few steps until he was closer to Will, a pensive expression in his face.

“Normally I would be trying to persuade you to not worry too much and just enjoy the flow of life, but I’m afraid I’ll have to admit that I’m worried myself.”

Will furrowed his brows. If he really was, Hannibal managed to hide that very well; he seemed calm as ever when they boarded on the train, and in the following hours.

“We have been careless, even reckless, and it costed us. Now we’ll have to be very attentive in our actions.”

Will sighed, his earlier concerns coming back with full force - it wasn't a good sign if even Hannibal was concerned.

“I feel like the world is shrinking. That our world is shrinking, and that soon enough we will have nowhere to run.”

“I still have plenty of resources, Will. There’s still a great deal of places that we could run to if you want to,” Hannibal said, his tone soothing.

“Yes, rationally I know it, but…” He sighed “I feel like a sailor adrift in the Age of Discovery, ignorant of what is coming next and afraid that we are reaching the end of the Earth.”

“We would not fall if we reached the end of the Earth, Will. We have fallen already,” Hannibal said, standing right in front of him now, appearing to be simultaneously serious and delighted “And we know it isn’t death that waited for us there, but a rebirth.”

“We were lucky to survive the fall, much more in having a chance to start anew. This kind of dumb luck doesn't come twice in my life.”

“I would disagree. We survived not because the cliff failed in killing us, but because we had the instinct to keep fighting for our lives even as we hit the water. Because we kept fighting in the following months in our broken and bruised bodies.”

“And because of Chiyoh’s help,” Will reminded Hannibal.

“Because of Chiyoh’s loyalty for me, yes,” Hannibal conceded “But my point is that lucky only played a small part in our survival; most of the merits go to ourselves.”

“But after being spotted thrice, we’ll need more than just survival instinct and random luck to keep ourselves out of radar,” Will said tiredly, uncrossing his arms as he did.

Hannibal was looking at him with intent, and Will braced himself for the answer; the expression in his face had become familiar for Will in the past few months. It was the expression that Hannibal had whenever he was going to say hard or uncomfortable truths.

_You must choose now, Will. If you come with me, there will be no coming back to your old life this time._

_We will have to run away right now or we will never have a chance to escape. The whole world will be sure that we are alive, but we have no other choice._

_I cannot promise that we won’t be caught this time, but I can and I do promise you that I’ll protect you until my last breath. And dear Will, you know that I always keep my promises_

Hannibal made that last promise to him only a few hours ago, and while part of him was warmed by the words, he was more unsettled than comforted by it. Will didn't want Hannibal to protect him to his death; Will would rather die with him than live in a world where Hannibal didn't exist anymore.

“We will need to make a true effort to hide this time,” Hannibal said, bringing Will back to the present moment “In ways that we didn't before. When we arrive in Zürich, we will take another train or other way to transportation to arrive in my property, which is located in a more remote part of Switzerland.”

“It will be wise to stay away from big cities and capitals,” Will agreed.

“That was what I had in mind when I bought this property. It is in a discreet location, and once we arrive, we should try to keep a low profile. We should not fraternize too long with neighbours for them to remember us, but we also should not become eremites, since too much isolation can arouse suspicion as well.”

Will nodded, pondering Hannibal’s words and not finding any fault in the plan so far.

“I also think it may be necessary for us to better disguise our appearance. Our faces are still too fresh in the public’s eye, and we must do our best to alter our normal appearances.”

“Maybe you could dye or hair and let your beard grow,” Will suggested “And I could bleach my hair, or maybe do a military cut. Or both.”

Hannibal seemed to hesitate for a moment, but raised one of his hands to run his fingers into Will’s curls, that had grown longer since they were on the run. Will instinctively leaned against the touch; it’s one of Hannibal’s touches that he had become used to since the start of their shared routine.

“While I would personally loathe changing your hair in this way, I cannot disagree with your reasonable suggestion. If necessary we should do that; we need to blend with the local population as better as we can.”

“What about language?” Will asked “Are you fluent?”

Hannibal dropped his hand, and Will instantly missed the heat of his fingers.

“My understanding of German, the main language, is rudimentary, but I am fluent in both French and Italian. Are you familiar with any of these idioms?”

“I can speak and understand a bit of French, but I wouldn't call myself fluent.”

“Then you will be pleased to know that French is highly spoken in the place where my residence is located. I will be glad to teach you anything you wish to learn if you so need or desire,” Hannibal said, smiling a little, and Will answered with a small smile of his own.

“I confess that I’m still surprised that you still didn't try to teach me or show me your expertise with a scalpel and a knife. Before, when I imagined what kind of relationship you wanted with me, I always thought this would be your first priority.”

Will furrowed his brows after he stopped speaking, confused of why he decided to bring it up, and Hannibal seemed to be a little taken aback with the question, even if he recovered quicker than Will.

“Believe me Will, I do intend to share all my knowledge with you. Nothing would please me more than you improving your technique, than seeing you victorious and covered in an enemy's’ blood.”

Will raised an eyebrow in a silent question that Hannibal promptly answered.

“I have no intention of rushing it, Will. The night we killed the Dragon will forever be imprinted in the halls of my mind, and how glorious you looked that night. I will love to share the pleasure of hunting with you again, but this is not a matter that should be rushed. We should be stabilized in a place, and preferably our faces should not be so memorable in the public’s mind. We need to proceed carefully before indulging in such activities. I am nothing if patient and it will be a pleasure to wait for the right circumstances, which also include your own terms and preferences on the subject.”

“Sounds reasonable for me,” Will said, appreciating the frankness of the answer and Hannibal’s eternal patience.

They shared a peaceful moment in the quietness of the dawn. For a blessed instant everything was silent and comfortable, and Will almost couldn’t even feel the cold anymore - so, of course Hannibal couldn’t let him be in peace, just for a while.

“Is your apprehension in being a FBI most wanted fugitive the only reason that expeled you from our cabin?”

Will raised his brows.

“Is it not enough?”

Hannibal only looked at him, in that disconcerting way that always made Will feel uncomfortable. Will loved Hannibal for understanding and seeing him inside and out, but Will also hated him for so easily exposing the inner pieces of his mind that Will would rather keep to himself.

“I don’t usually have this problem, but the whole room seemed awfully claustrophobic for me. It seemed like the walls would engulf me and chew me until there was nothing left of me.”

“Just the walls?”

Will glared at Hannibal; he already knew very well the answer for that.

When he had woken up earlier, he was overwhelmed by the silence, broken only by his and Hannibal’s breathing. He spent a few minutes staring at the dark ceiling until he started to see better in the darkness, feeling restless and unable to face the possibility of falling asleep again so soon.

Awake and tired, the walls seemed to shrink under Will’s vision in the barely visible room. Every time he looked at the walls, they seemed smaller than before, and Will started to feel his pulse race.

However, nothing was more agonizing than Hannibal’s chest against his back, his arm around Will’s waist.

The distressing part of it was the conflicting sensations that the embrace provoked in Will. At moments, Hannibal’s arms felt like the gentle, sensuous action of the lovers they still weren't, and just moments after, his arms felt like lianas that detained and suffocated Will even more than the narrow walls did.

Will was sure that if he had remained in that room for a few more seconds, he would have tried to either grope Hannibal or strangle him. Feeling unable to deal with the consequences of either action, he thought it would be better to just get off the cabin for a few hours.

“No, not just the walls,” Will admitted, softly.

Will didn’t specify what he meant, but Hannibal just nodded his understanding. Of course he understood; he always did, even when Will himself was still trying to make sense of what was happening in his head.

“Do you often feel this way around me, Will? As if I could easily suffocate your mind?

_As if you could just swallow me whole._

“Not precisely, no,” Will shook his head “But I do feel like I can lose perspective and easily lose myself into you, yes.”

_You expect us to believe that you somehow lost yourself in the hot darkness of Hannibal Lecter's mind?_

Will still remembered when he angrily said that to Bedelia in Florence, years ago. He still remembered the outrage, the bitter taste in his mouth at what Bedelia was claiming. As if she had a right to play this game and remain whole. As if she had paid how dearly as he had the price of knowing what Hannibal’s mind looked like.

“You once told me that we were conjoined, Will. Is it not what is it? You losing yourself in me, and me losing myself in you?” Hannibal mused.

Will shook his head.

“It’s different for me, and you know that. We’re two sides of the same coin but we’re still two different sides, and it’s harder for me to keep a sense of identity when we spend so much time in close quarters.”

Hannibal nodded and looked to be considering Will’s words, and since they had already started the therapy session in such an ungodly hour in the caboose of a train, Will thought it was time to acknowledge the elephant who was always in a room with them.

“And if you are wondering, this is one of the reasons of why I’m still hesitating in starting…” He paused, feeling extremely awkward with Hannibal looking at him in expectative “Something more… physical between us.”

Hannibal cocked his head; if Will's wasn't so close to see the glitter in his eyes, he would think that Hannibal didn't have any reaction to his confession.

“I’ve been giving you space to figure out how you feel about these matters because I’m well aware that this is more difficult for you than it ever was from me, Will.”

“I know, and I appreciate that.”

“While it would be a lie to say that I have no desire to pursue a physical relationship with you, it wouldn't be necessary for our partnership if you didn't reciprocate my feelings. But considering your words just now you must tell me, Will. Do you feel the impulse of taking this one more step in our relationship?”

Oh, the problem wasn't lack of impulse, at all.

Will had been uncomfortably aware of his attraction for Hannibal for years, and aware of his sexual attraction for months now. He was still unsure and considering that he never wanted to be with a man before, but this was not the source of his hesitation.

“I do feel it, yes. I am attracted to you, and I know you are attracted to me, maybe always was. My hesitation is not for lack of desire, Hannibal. It is because of who we are. Who you are.”

Will tapped his fingers against a leg, trying to say it all without feeling anxious.

“I already gave you everything,” Will all but whispered, but his voice still seemed loud in the empty spaces between them “You took everything, and what you didn't, I gave willing to you. I abandoned my life, my family, my career. And I tell myself that I had no other choice, but I know I did. And I still chose you.”

Hannibal kept gazing at Will, and while it was unnerving, it was also an incentive to keep talking.

“I feel a wide range of emotions for you, stronger than I ever felt for anyone else in my life,” Will smiled bitterly at the understatement, knowing that he never hated anyone more than he hated Hannibal, never loved anyone in the way he loved him

“And you just… become the centre of everything. For me, it seems like this particular kind of intimacy - sexual intimacy - it’s the one thing I didn't give you yet. It seems like it’s the last part of me completely free from you.”

Hannibal was still looking at him, absorbing every word that Will said with passionate intent.

Very slowly, Hannibal raised his hand and caressed his cheek; Will shivered a little, trying to not remember the kitchen, Hannibal’s arms around him as he gutted him.

“Foolish boy,” Hannibal said, his voice also a little more than a whisper “Do you really think it’s not the same for me?”

Will opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn't the same, but stopped himself before he could say anything. He remembered Hannibal how he used to be when they met – the sociable and highly well liked gentleman who prospered in every area he put his mind into. Hannibal, smart enough to keep suspicion off himself for the rest of his life if he wanted to, cunning enough to make the FBI believe that a man who couldn't ingest animal protein and walked with a cane was the Chesapeake Ripper; Hannibal, who could have remained living in his perfect structured world for the rest of his days, but who destroyed everything for the opportunity to invite the chaos of Will’s existence into his life.

The realization provoked a small smile in Will’s face, but Hannibal started talking again before he could get a word in.

“I will not insult us both and tell that your experience is the same, Will. You stumbled into my life and transformed everything you found in your way, but at least I was aware most of time.”

“While I wasn't always aware of what your presence was doing to me.”

“Precisely. As you described yourself, we are two different sides forming a whole, and until we reached the place we are now, our feelings and experiences were dissimilar in several moments. In a way, they still are," Hannibal said, still holding Will’s face “However, do not presume that my feelings for you are any less stronger, paradoxical or confusing than yours for me, Will.”

“I won’t.”

Will’s voice was even lower than before, and he was struggling to keep breathing normally, finding it difficult with Hannibal’s proximity.

“I think I was always aware, but part of me was deliberating avoiding seeing things from your point of view.”

“Because you are afraid of losing your mind into mine?”

“Yes, but…” Will smirked a bit, avoiding Hannibal’s eyes for a few moments, before looking at him again “I think I was partially amenable in denying myself if I could frustrate you even more. I don’t think it was even a conscious thing, but it was very amusing for me to occasionally see how much I could frustrate you.”

Will did find a perverse enjoyment in seeing Hannibal suffering in some quiet moments of their lives, seeing Hannibal struggling to not touch him more than he should, forcing himself to step back and not force Will to take a premature decision.

He didn't thought he was doing it in purpose before, but when he looked back now he thought he might as well have been.

“You enjoy the sensation of having power over me,” Hannibal narrowed his eyes at him.

“I suppose I do,” Will smiled, amused “It’s a powerful sensation. There is not many people who can say that they messed around with Hannibal Lecter and lived to tell the story.”

“And you would be right. Or, if I may make a small correction, partially right.”

Will cocked an eyebrow at that.

“How so?”

“You said there wasn't many people who ‘messed around’ with me and lived to tell the story,” Will could almost see the quotation marks in Hannibal’s voice and resisted the urge to laugh in a serious moment “When, in truth, no one ‘messed around’ with me like you do. There is no one else capable of evoking the emotions you evoke in me like you do, and if there was, I would not tolerate from them the things I tolerate from you."

"Compassion is inconvenient,” Will paraphrased him, and Hannibal smiled in recognition.

“Indeed it is. But if it is the price of having you by my side, I will be happy in living with inconvenient feelings for the rest of my life.”

Will couldn’t help a grin at the words - the phrasing was somewhat corny, but the feeling was real and the implications made him flush and lower his eyes.

Will felt a caress in his healed cheek scar - Hannibal’s thumb making small, soothing circles in his skin. The touch made him raise his eyes again observing Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal’s face was serene, his eyes gazing softly into Will’s. He seemed satisfied in hearing all that Will had said to him and there was no surprise on this, since Will knew very well how much Hannibal loved dissecting his mind.

But his satisfaction didn't carried the usual smugness that Hannibal couldn't help but irradiate when he was right, which often made Will want to punch him; instead, Will could only feel relief and contentment coming from him. It was almost selfless; not quite because Hannibal would never be entirely selfless, but he was pleased because Will was pleased, and not because he was right in what he said.

Even months after, even after all they have lived, it still was a surprise when he could feel this kind of emotion coming from Hannibal. It was breathtaking in a way, being the sole receptacle of Hannibal’s attention, and one of the reasons of why he rarely tried to read Hannibal’s emotions; it was often too much.

However, in that moment it didn't feel too much - it felt _good_. It felt like exactly what Will needed.

Will raised his own hand, touching Hannibal’s hair. It was soft between his fingers, and he kept running his fingers through it, fascinated by the texture.

“Will?”

Hannibal’s expression was still, but his voice betrayed his confusion. Will couldn't blame him, considering that their touches were almost exclusively one sided.

“If I may ask, what you are doing?”

Will smiled, bringing himself even closer to Hannibal, their chests pressed together.

“I have no idea.”

With that, he tightened his hand in Hannibal hair and brought his mouth closer for a kiss.

Hannibal went still at first, his mouth immobile beneath Will’s lips, but Will didn’t let it stop him. He kept pressing his lips to Hannibal’s, sucking softly in his lower lip, exploring the sensation of a kiss after so long. Very slowly, Hannibal started to react, raising his other hand to cup the other side of Will’s face and moving his lips against Will’s.

The kiss was slow and much softer than Will ever expected their first kiss to be. When he dared to think about what would be like kissing Hannibal, he always thought it would be violent, furious, bloody. He didn’t think that Hannibal would clutch his face like he was holding something fragile, that he would kiss Will as if he had waited his entire life to do it.

But then again, maybe he had.

While they kissed, Hannibal’s mouth growing bolder and deepening their kisses, Will remembered the time that Chiyoh kissed him and pushed him off a moving train. He realized that he was in Chiyoh’s position now; if he wanted to he could easily give in the violence that colored his relationship with Hannibal. There was no way that Hannibal could immediately follow him if he did so, and Will would be free to start a new life, anywhere he wanted.

Except that this was the furthest thing from his mind.

In other times it would be highly tempting, almost irresistible, but now it seemed pointless. It was hard living with Hannibal, but Will knew how much worst it could be living without him, especially after the level of co-dependency that they reached after the fall; he didn't want to live without Hannibal again, so Will put these thoughts away from his mind and kept kissing Hannibal.

Will lost track of time as they exchanged soft kisses in the cold night, surprised about how not surprising it was to kiss Hannibal, about how comfortable and familiar it felt, until they lips stopped moving and they were only breathing against each other with their eyes still closed.

“Should I presume then that it means that you are done with denying yourself?” Hannibal asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

Will smiled and opened his eyes to observe Hannibal, who was looking less composed than normal with his ruffled hair and red lips.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he lowered his head until he could rest his head against Hannibal’s shoulder; his sweater was just as soft under his cheek as he imagined it would be.

Will knew that he would likely never stop struggling with himself, that living together with the man that he loathed and loved more than anyone else in the world wouldn't be easy, but in that moment, tucked into Hannibal’s warm embrace, he was happy for the choice he had made.

“For the moment.”

And a moment was all that Will needed. All that they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to Nights in White Satin/Late Lament by The Moody Blues.
> 
> Hannigram can be hard to write, but it's also delightful - these two and their pretentious, dramatic, full on metaphors conversations are a lot of fun to write.
> 
> I apologize if I got any wrong information about the countries - I took most of the info out of Wikipedia, I confess.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Kudos and reviews are always welcome, and thank you for reading!


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